


The Man With The Newspaper

by Jennytheshipper



Series: The Life And Death Of Sugar Candy [18]
Category: The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-08
Updated: 2013-10-08
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennytheshipper/pseuds/Jennytheshipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two old friends meet in the lobby of a Berlin hotel in 1927.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man With The Newspaper

**Author's Note:**

> Series notes [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/36980)  
> 

Mariel waited for the cage doors of the lift to open. How symbolic, she thought. How like a cage it was being in that room upstairs with Albert and his tedious American friends. The lobby of the Grand Hotel in Berlin was like so many European hotels she’d been to in the past several months. Here, instead of the rococo mirror was the knock off of a Dutch master, this one a bit better than most. There was the concierge--all smiles and hands and cologne, awaiting his bribes. The businessmen looking to find out about the latest club sensation; opium dens one week, lesbian cabarets the next. The tarts playing up to them with a pointed look over their compact mirrors, and there - waiting patiently till he was needed to broker the deal - was the enigmatic man behind the newspaper. 

Mariel was there for the tarts. This group were better than most, the girls were clean, with bobbed hair and the latest dresses, nothing too obvious. And that boy was really something: youth and fashion combined for a truly novel effect. His shoes shone, his socks matched his bow tie. She smiled and he raised an eyebrow in return, pretending not to be too interested in her. Clever. This one’s had some coaching. Her eye returned to the man behind the newspaper who shifted his weight, presumably to get a better look at her. She automatically stood a little straighter and pushed out her chest. She wasn’t badly put together for her age and she knew it. She wouldn’t have this newspaper fellow thinking her a sad case and trying to upcharge her. She studied his hands for a moment. There was something familiar about them. They were large and strong, but also with a certain feminine grace to them. He wore an elegant signet ring on his little finger, like - But no, it couldn’t be. Suddenly the newspaper fluttered aside.

“Mariel!” he called, with a grin, flashing a rare glimpse of his gapped upper teeth. 

“Theo!” she said unable to suppress her own delight, though they now had the full attention of the entire lobby.

He moved toward her quickly and she scarcely had time to admire the way he’d adapted his efficient military stride to the needs of a hotel lobby. She reached out her hand and he took it in his, raising it to his lips as if no time had elapsed at all since their last meeting. It might have been twenty-five years earlier - the brush of his lips, the smell of his pomade, the familiar, warm grip of his hands were the same. She fancied she saw something in his eyes that was different, though, a tiredness that she’d never seen before. Theo made brief eye contact with the Concierge, and the reptilian man appeared at his elbow. Theo spoke to him in a low voice, something about expecting a business contact. 

“Drink?” Theo asked, turning back to Mariel, briefly and she nodded. “We’ll be in the bar,” he said over his shoulder to the concierge, “my usual table.” Theo offered his arm to her and she felt at once that familiar warmth, his solid forearm beneath his suit. And he was so tall, compared to Albert! That was something she missed, walking down the street on the arm of a tall man. Tarts could remedy some of her complaints, but not all. He escorted her into the dark lounge with its wood panelling and green glass lamps. He pulled out a chair for her and sat in his own seat. He turned his head briefly and glanced through a louvered window near the table. Her back was to the lobby and to Theo’s tarts, but she fancied she could follow their movements in his eyes. 

Theo ordered the drinks, “Kirschwasser, for old time’s sake” and she studied him surreptitiously while waiting for the barman to bring the drinks. Theo had aged well. His hair had gone grey at the temples, which suited him, made him distinguished. He was more elegant than she’d remembered, perhaps the effect of his tightly cropped moustache. He looked prosperous. No doubt owing to his skilful management of that crew in the lobby. He wore a dark suit, perfectly tailored but conservative. His only concession to his profession was perhaps the thin gold tie bar at his collar that matched the signet ring in understated luxury. She sighed.

“What is it, Mariel” he said. Christ, it was good to hear German. And to hear her name pronounced correctly, not a muddle of ‘Muriel’ or worse as ‘Mary Elle” the way Albert’s friends sometimes did.

“I was just thinking, how unfair life is.”

“How so?”

“Men, well, some men, just get better looking, more distinguished as they age. The rest of us just get old.”

“Nonsense, Mariel, you have not changed a bit,” he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. 

“You are lying, but I will forgive you,” she said smiling. She hadn’t been fishing for the compliment. She knew she’d aged, of course, but money always helped with that. Albert had seen that she had the latest clothes and a short marcelled hairstyle that was all the rage in Paris.

Theo took out a cigarette and offered her one. She recognised the battered silver cigarette case as one of the first presents she’d bought him, back when he was just plain Theo, before his commission to the army. 

“No thanks. I stopped smoking when all the flappers were starting a few years back. It just wasn’t any fun anymore. No one was shocked. What was the point? Georg –my hairdresser-says it saved my skin.”

Theo smiled. “You look wonderful. Georg has done well.”

She felt her face flush at the compliment. “You still have it. I’m glad,” she said, pointing to the case. 

“Of course. It’s seen better days, but haven’t we all,” he said with a shrug. She noticed that he lit his cigarette with a small gold lighter, another little luxury. 

 “Mariel,” Theo said, dragging out the first syllable of her name as he exhaled a small cloud of smoke. She’d always loved to hear him say her name. Was he working her as a customer? 

“Theo,” she replied and they both laughed. “You said you were waiting to meet a friend on business. I hope I’m not interrupting you,” she said archly, knowing full well what Theo had been up to. 

“No, I think we have some time yet,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to the lobby. 

“Good. So tell me everything. How is Edith?”

“Edith is fine,” Theo said, with a faint smile. “You were right about her. She was just the thing for me.” It was satisfying to hear, Mariel had always prided herself on her good sense when it came to marriage. She always did like to play matchmaker. After all, wasn’t that the role of the rich, bored widow?

“Any children?” she asked, hoping to draw him out a bit more. Perhaps he was saying as little as possible about Edith. 

 “Yes. We have two children, two boys, well, I still call them boys, but they are twenty-four and twenty, now. Karl is in commercial art. He is an old, married man now, living in the suburbs. Peter is at University. The house - we live in Spandau, on the river - feels quite empty now.” Theo said all this in that self-deprecating way which had always been so attractive to her. She knew things were bound to be more complicated, but she was satisfied that he was at least able to draw a pretty picture.

“And Edith does not miss England?” she asked cautiously. Her conscience had almost bothered her on that point, but that was long ago. Now she was merely politely curious.

“She does sometimes, I think. We were always going to visit, but it was always one thing and another,” he said, exhaling smoke, shifting in his chair. 

“You’ve never been to England, then?” she asked, incredulous. She’d been to three countries this past month. It was difficult to imagine such a sedentary life.

“Not since the War. No. I was a prisoner there,” Theo said, quickly, as if in a hurry to move on from the topic. 

Mariel nodded, sympathetically. So he’d finally had his war, then. He’d been so eager for it. She remembered the happy boy in his smart uniform with the shining buttons and his dragoon’s moustache - a theatrical touch she could never talk him out of. You had to look the part, he always said. 

“I learned English,” he said with evident pride, switching languages. “It was a dull war, but it did me some good.” She shuddered to hear _him_ speaking English, as well. It seemed the whole world spoke it whether they wanted to or not.

“God, no! I want to speak German, Theo. I’m with Americans all day. It’s utterly tiresome.”

He smiled and carried on in German. “Did you spend the war here, or in America?”

“Oh here, Thank God. Things were awful for Germans there, during the war. Or so Albert tells me.” There had been a time, when she thought things had been dreadful in Germany, watching the young officers go off one by one, her servants poached by the army. That seemed quite trivial next to what Edith must have gone through.

“Things could not have been easy for Edith, then.” 

“Terrible. The worst of it was that I was not here to protect her. People thought all sorts of things. Sometimes said them to her face. It was hard on the boys as well,” he said, sounding pained. “Edith’s money was cut off by the British government, which enraged her more than anything else. You know how Edith gets,” he said, brightening.

“Yes,” she said smiling at the memory of the headstrong suffragette she’d known in ’02. You couldn’t tell Edith anything. But she was strong, and intelligent, level-headed, where Theo was sometimes romantic and unpredictable. 

“I’ve always wanted the chance to thank you, Mariel,” Theo said, quietly, fiddling with the stem of his glass, as if he were suddenly nervous or distracted.  

“For what?”

“You know full well, for what,” Theo said shaking his head. “For going through with your side of the deal, even though you did not get your English gentleman.”

“Oh, but Theo, that was only fair,” she said and reached out and patted his hand. Warm and solid, just as she remembered. She forgot all about the tarts in the lobby, wondering if Theo might - for old time’s sake - “You held up your side of the bargain by proposing to Edith. I always thought it was very noble of you to go through with it even after my plans fell apart,” she said, and watched in amusement as he blushed. She wondered if it was from the compliment or the fact that she hadn’t removed her hand from his. “And it wasn’t a bribe to get Edith out of the way. You mustn’t think of it like that. It was only right that I settle something on you after what you were to me then. I’ve very fond memories of those days. It was a gift.”

“Well, it paid for the house, it’s a cottage, really, and I don’t know where we’d have been these years without it,” he said with a small sigh.

“Oh dear, Theo, a cottage!” she teased, hoping to cheer him, “You always were a bit corny, in secret, I think.”

Theo blushed again. “It’s lovely; really, Edith has done wonders with the garden. You should come and have tea some time. She’d, we’d like that.”

Oh good lord, had he gone mad? “I’m only in town for a few days,” she said, searching for an excuse, “I’m not sure it would work. Besides, I don’t think it would be the best idea, do you?” Mariel said, stroking her finger suggestively across Theo’s wrist, probing just under his crisp white cuff. She could feel the pulse beating there, steady, strong. 

“No, I suppose not. I’m at home only a few nights a week now, anyway,” he said, putting his cigarette in his mouth. He covered her hand with his. She couldn’t tell if this was the first move in his game or the last. 

“Business, booming then?” she said, smiling knowingly.

“You might say so,” he replied, calmly. He let go of her hand and took a drag of his cigarette. She busied herself with her drink while she plotted her next move.

 “You know, for a while there I was out of the game entirely,” he said at length. “A respectable officer. I was almost as good as - as Clive.”

Mariel started a bit at his name. She had assumed they were avoiding any mention of him.

“Oh, Clive, that maddening man. The cause of it all!” she said in mock outrage. She supposed since Theo had brought him up, it would be okay to tease him on this point. “Who would’ve guessed, eh? About Clive, I mean?”

Theo blanched, and she regretted the remark instantly. This was not the way to get a man into bed. If he was terribly upset, he recovered quickly. He shrugged and laughed into his glass as he finished the last drops of his drink. She thought of Clive that day in the stables, politely declining her offer; taking great pains to not injure her dignity. Oh! He’d been embarrassed for _her_. That was the most maddening thing of all. She couldn’t help herself, now; curiosity overcame her desire to get Theo into bed.

“Whatever happened to him, after Berlin?’

“I saw him once or twice when I was in England. He was still the same old Clive,” he said, sounding wistful. “The world fell apart all around him and he was unchanged. He married an heiress in the end, you will be sad to hear. A nurse in the war. I never met her, but Clive is crazy about her. We write occasionally. Postcards only, from Jamaica last I heard.” Theo sounded happy enough as he spoke but she thought she spotted an uncharacteristic look of worry flash across his face.

“And what about you, Frau Von Kalteneck? You did not get your English gentlemen, but you have landed on your feet, no?” he said with an appreciative glance.

“I am Mrs Albert Bayer of the Newport Bayers,” she said, returning his gaze, trying to make him look her in the eye. The old spark was there, she was sure, well, she felt it at least, but he was slippery. She could get no clear sign either way. 

“Not _the_ Newport Bayers?” Theo said with mock appreciation.  

“Albert is in pharmaceuticals.”

“I hope you can get him out,” he said with a wink.

Mariel laughed. She had forgotten Theo’s wit. His playfulness. She didn’t regret letting him go, but he had been a lot of laughs. She wanted him, even if it was only for a few hours, Goddamn it, she wanted him. Right, then. Cards on the table. “Does Edith know, about this?” she whispered conspiratorially, and motioned to the lobby. 

“Heavens, no,” Theo said, his eyes wide. “Edith thinks I’m in import-export, trading with the White Russians, which strictly speaking I am,” he said stubbing out his cigarette. “My partner is Hungarian. He drinks all the profits, but it makes a useful cover for my other activities. When asked I say, I am a middle man, a broker, which is nothing but the God’s honest truth.”

“And in a legal trade, no less,” she said, tipping her glass to him and draining it, suddenly not wanting to waste any more time in the bar. 

“Yes, but not quite respectable.”

“Not quite, no. But very useful,” she smiled. Her heart beat faster now, waiting for him to take the bait. 

“I couldn’t help but notice that you still appreciate the finer things, that young man in the lobby, for instance,” he said studying his well-manicured fingernails. Her heart sank. Had he been working her all along, as a customer? Here was the pimp feigning boredom, getting ready to name his price, she was sure. “I can make a very good deal for you. Practically below my costs, I assure you.”

She dismissed the urge to make her excuses and rush back to Albert, to her safe, dull life upstairs. She mustn’t forget the restlessness that had sent her down to the lobby in the first place. She wanted someone, and here was Theo! And he might be had, if she could swallow her pride a bit. She had paid before, not outright, of course, but with gifts and favours of introduction to the right sort of people. She had never deluded herself then about their relationship, why start now? 

“And what about you?” she asked in a murmur, her eyes fixed on his, “Do you ever take on customers, yourself?” She kicked off her shoe and toed his ankle under the table.

“You are too kind,” he said stiffening in his chair, evidently surprised at this development. He didn’t pull away which she found encouraging. “But I am too old and you know it,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. 

“Fiddlesticks! As my Albert would say. I’m sure you still get offers,” she said, working her toe under his trouser leg, searching in vain for the top of his silky socks.

“Occasionally,” he demurred, shifting in his chair, slightly, moving his leg just out of range of her efforts. She was uncertain whether he was avoiding or teasing her.

“And you are never tempted by them?” she said, making a final play by crossing her legs and brushing his knee with her foot. She saw him start slightly, but recover his composure. 

“Perhaps, tempted, yes,” he said with a little bow of the head in her direction. “But for Edith’s sake, I have retired and function merely in an advisory capacity,” he said, turning in his chair as if he suddenly needed to stretch his legs. Mariel knew he had retreated again. Disappointing. She couldn’t help but feel annoyed, couldn’t resist the urge to make a dig. “For Edith’s sake. No one else’s?” she asked, arching her brow.

“Of course not,” he said, looking away, uncomfortably. Oh, Theo, she thought. Why bother to keep up the pretence with me? I am not Edith. I know who you’re faithful to. 

Theo asked if she wanted another drink and Mariel nodded her assent. She might get a bit drunk, if she wasn’t careful, but she didn’t care. Theo’s rejection made her feel a bit reckless. He motioned to the barman with his glass. The drinks arrived, and they sipped in silence for a moment. Her annoyance with him faded; the effect of seeing him after so long a time softened her. He _was_ one of her oldest friends, after all.

“Theo. Is it dangerous?” 

“What?”

“This work” she said motioning to the lobby.

“No more than the army. And that’s the way I operate, as if I’m still in the army and this is all just another manoeuvre. If I need to get rough, I get rough.” He shrugged, dismissively. “It rarely comes to that. The sight of a gun in the hand of a man who is not afraid to use it goes a long way, even in this town.” 

Mariel winced. There was a hardness to Theo that had always unnerved her. It was part of why she’d dropped him all those years ago. She needed a soft man, one she could mould like clay.

“But still, wouldn’t you like to do something respectable, like before the war?”

“What, Mariel? This is all I know,” he said, sounding annoyed.

“Albert is opening a factory here with some other Americans. Military chemicals or something. I don’t know. Anyway, he will need managers. Men who speak German and English and with your war record and your obvious skills with people - ”

“I would like to see how you would put things in a letter of reference for me.”

“I’m serious. Albert doesn’t have to know any more than Edith. You are a broker, a middle man and clearly a prosperous one. You are not like all these pathetic old soldiers shuffling around in their threadbare greatcoats, selling apples or pencils.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about,” he snapped.

“Theo, I’m sorry, I was only trying to say that - ”

“It was not so long ago that I was one of these men you so despise in my old army coat, sitting in lobbies like that one, checking the want ads, being put out onto the street by the concierge who demands a box of cigars or a case of brandy every week for the privilege of knowing him.” He was worked up and she was sorry. She’d been relieved to see him so prosperous and hadn’t thought. He was carrying on in that slightly dramatic tone of his, “And then one day I came in here, and I saw Kurt, the young man you so obviously fancied when you came in. He reminded me of myself, in the days before I met you, before I got my commission.”

“What was his name, again, the old General who bought your commission?” she said, hoping to take him back to the past, to remind him some of what he owed her.

“Fleischer-bach. Why? Does it matter?” his voice was almost loud, his brow furrowed in annoyance. 

“No, no, I just couldn’t remember,” she pretended not to see his anger, still hoping to get him back to the past. “Is that where you got the idea for the hyphen?”

“I suppose it was, yes.” He said, still impatient with her tangent.

She decided to play it through. “And you took the names off of what was it? You told me once. A ham packet! That’s it. Kretschmar’s finest hams. From Schuldorff.” She laughed.

Theo smiled tightly; evidently more annoyed than ever. He knocked his kirschwasser back, looked ready to leave.

“I’m sorry,” she said staying his hand with hers, preventing his signal to the barman. “You were saying about Kurt, reminding you of yourself.” 

“He was just the same,” Theo said, flatly at first, but soon warming again to the topic “green and hungry, hustling for drinks and cigarettes,” he said fingering his cigarette case, “And now that we’ve made a bit of a go of it, he has a room and three meals a day and I tell myself that someday I’d like to buy _him_ a commission in the army, get the girls a secretarial course, but there is nothing like that for them here,” he said, shaking his head in disgust, “this country seems ready to eat its own young.”

“Bring them with you,” Mariel said, suddenly swept up by Theo’s passion.

“What?” Theo asked, his brow creased again with confusion.

“I’m telling you, I can get you in at Albert’s factory and you can bring them with you.”

“You are mad,” he said, dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

 “I’m not. Albert and his friends can do this for you. Let them.”

“I will think about it,” he said, quickly, as if he didn’t quite believe the offer.

“Don’t think too long. We will be here a few more days and then we move on to Rome,” she said.

He nodded, though she was sure he would take more convincing.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she asked leaning toward him till her forehead nearly touched his. She could smell his breath, sweet with kirschwasser, his cigarettes, and the warm, spicy scent of his pomade. She longed to reach across and kiss him, put a hand through that hair and ruffle it as before. Oh it really was a damn shame that he had retired. 

“What?” his voice had no curiosity in it. She carried on anyway.

“I have always despised this stuff,” she said, holding up her glass of kirschwasser.

Theo laughed. “Why ever did you drink so much of it?”

“I didn’t want to be insulting. You and Clive seemed so fond of it.” 

Theo was quiet again. He toyed with his empty glass and looked away. She was sure he was hiding his eyes for a moment. Poor boy, she thought, he still has it bad for Clive Candy. 

But no, his gaze was still fixed on the lobby. She turned her head as much as she could without letting him see, and saw out of the corner of her eye, a well-dressed man, leaning casually against one of the marble columns.

“Mariel, it’s been a pleasure, but I must go. I will consider your offer, I promise,” he said rising from his seat “My love to Edith,” she said, shooting him a devilish look. “And Clive, if you get the chance.” She rose and gathered her purse and wrap, pretending not to see Theo’s blush at the mention of Clive’s name. 

“Of course. Goodbye.” He took her hand and kissed it. He walked back to the lobby, engaging the man who had been leaning against the column in conversation. A few words were exchanged, and discreetly folded money changed hands. She stood for a moment watching from the bar, uncertain whether she wanted to go back upstairs or carry on with her original plan. Kurt sat nearby; he uncrossed his legs, and sprawled out a bit on the sofa. He motioned to her with his head. She crossed the lobby and sat down next to him, her thigh touching his. He was not Theo, but he just might do. She couldn’t bear to go back up to Albert just yet.

“I have a flat, across the street, would you like to come for Coffee?” Kurt murmured. 

“Coffee, yes, or something stronger if you have it.”

“I do,” he said, all business.

“Let’s go then, I don’t have a lot of time.”

“That’s a pity,” he said and stood, helping her up. She glanced across at Theo who had returned to his seat by the fire and his newspaper. He peered round his paper and, seeing the two of them together, laughed and shook his head.

“So, Kurt is it?” she asked. He looked as if surprised that she knew his name.

“My name’s Mariel. I’m an old friend of your, er, boss.”

He offered her his arm. Oh, it was a nice solid arm, warm, like Theo’s. Indeed. He would do nicely. As they walked out of the lobby into the cool night air, she glimpsed their reflection in the door. They made a handsome couple. He was tall, she was elegant. She knew Theo would be keeping an eye on the time from behind his newspaper. She would pay him, on her way back to Albert. She was sure he’d agree to her job offer. He had to.

“I was wondering?” she asked, Kurt, “Have you ever been to Manheim?” 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to idlesuperstar for her stellar beta work and for participating in endless back story conversations. Also for the moodboards. And keeping us on schedule. And actually posting the pieces. Remind me what my contribution to this series is again?
> 
> More than anything else I've written, this is a loveletter to Emeric Pressburger.


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